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Updated: June 11, 2025
Dillon's speech in October 1886, urging and advising the tenants to organise, exact contributions from every member of the organisation, and put these contributions under the control of third parties determined to confiscate the money subscribed by any member who might not find the organisation working to his advantage, is a rather long step!
It mattered little whether Arthur was Anne Dillon's son, he would always be the faithful, strong friend, and benefactor. That he had a wife living, the living witness of the weakness of his career in the mines, shocked her for the moment. The fact carried comfort too. Doubt fled, and the weighing of inclinations, the process kept up by her mind apart from her will, ceased of a sudden.
Dillon leisurely gathered it up and dropped the nuggets, with an absent-minded air, into the pouch which Lighter held. But the San Francisco Examiner had been worn to the softness of an old rag and the thinness of tissue. Under Dillon's sinewy fingers pinching up the gold the paper gave way. "Oh!" exclaimed more than one voice, as at some grave mishap.
Whoa, darling; it's mammy!" came in liquid tones from the motor. The rearing thoroughbred descended to earth with slim inquiring ears thrown forward, and I remembered that Blister had described Mrs. Dillon's voice as "good to listen at." "Look, Virginia, she knows me!" the velvet voice exclaimed.
Tredegar pursued: "I gather, from your bringing up Dillon's case, that for some reason you consider it typical of the defects you find in Mr. Truscomb's management. Suppose, therefore, we drop generalizations, and confine ourselves to the particular instance. What wrong, in your view, has been done the Dillons?" He turned, as he spoke, to extract a cigar from the box at his elbow.
And this is my reward, this black and, wait till we get to the brood mares and you'll see the other, a full brother and mahogany brown. I'm so disappointed." She singled out a pair of dark bays, feeding together: "Those are two of Guy Dillon's get brother, you know, to Lou Dillon. They're out of different mares, not quite the same bay, but aren't they splendidly matched?
For I wanted to live in the very heart of the big port's confusion, to grapple alone with the chaos out of which Dillon's engineers were striving to bring order. Here I lived for weeks by myself, taking my meals in a barroom below. There were no stately liners here. The North River piers with their rich life had been like a show room. I had come down into the factory now.
From that hour his declension had been swift. How far he had gone was shown by the way he had taken Dillon's great service to him. The thing rankled in his mind, filled him with surging rage whenever he thought of it. He hated the young fellow more than ever.
Lord Dillon's case, which is still quoted as an authority, was tried. The plea for the Crown alleged that the honor of the monarch stood before his profit, and as the commissioners were only authorized to issue patents to hold in capite, whereas they had given title "to hold in capite, by knights' service out of Dublin Castle," the grant was bad.
"I flatter?" protested Peter, in aggrieved tones. "Why truthfulness is my strong point." Marjorie Moore gave a jarring laugh. "Is it, Mr. Dillon?" she returned, not too politely. "Please count me out of Mr. Dillon's flatteries. He does not include a woman who works in them." Marjorie Moore hurried away. "Whew-w!" ejaculated Peter. "Miss Moore does not love me, does she?
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